


The Sound of Mischievous Mazes

by Hyela



Series: A Multitude of Sounds [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:25:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyela/pseuds/Hyela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles and ficlets about les Amis put in situations that borrow from Fairy Tales. The stories themselves are not necessarily set in a fairy tale, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't ask me for a Kiss (Grantaire)

**Author's Note:**

> -English is not my First Language and I don't have a beta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire wants to help Enjolras, but the latter doesn't like his condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Contains E/R and both of them being rude as Hell

The young blonde man had a look of utter dismay on his face. He was staring at the pond and his hands were shaking with what might have been anger or anguish. Even though his traits were pulled into a discontent grimace, he was still the most Gorgeous person Grantaire had ever seen. He had the tallness of a man and the furious gaze of a warrior, but everything else about him was feminine: his waist-long blonde hair, his smooth bronze skin, his luscious full lips, his willowy silhouette and his long fingers balling into fists. Even his long coat, a flashing red spot in the scenery, made him look more womanish than they were probably meant to.

Grantaire had already seen the man in a café a few times before. He was once of these rich liberal students who had the pretense to talk about matters they knew next to nothing about, such as race, poverty and politics. He always hung out with a group of friends, so Grantaire hadn’t had the courage to approach him. He most likely would have spouted something really mean and inconsiderate about the blonde’s ideals. Social awkwardness was not unfamiliar to Grantaire: he liked to speak his mind, but was rarely coherent enough to be polite. Seeing as the blonde beauty always looked angry and harsh, he liked to think that they had that in common. If they were to talk, there would be sparks and flames.

Still, the occasion to approach the beau was there. He was obviously distressed and, if the way he was glaring at the muddy waters was any clue, he looked like he was prepared to jump. Now, Grantaire couldn’t let him ruin his perfect hair and his perfect clothes without feeling like a criminal. He promptly crossed the park and planted himself right next to the blonde. The latter jumped and his glare was transferred from the pond to Grantaire.

“Have you lost something?” Grantaire asked. He tried to smile, but it must have looked like a mocking smirked because the blonde scoffed and stepped away.

“I don’t know you!” He grumbled. His voice, just like Grantaire remembered it, was low and suave. It did not completely fit him, but it was just as beautiful as the rest of his appearance. Grantaire laughed.

“You need to know me to accept help from me? Aren’t you for brotherhood, camaraderie, mutual aid and all that shit? My name’s Grantaire.”

“Enjolras,” said the blonde. His tone was icy. He gave Grantaire a once over and turned back to the marsh. “I dropped my ball.”

“Your balls?” Grantaire repeated, his smile larger. His humour was not well received. Enjolras jut out his chin and took a step towards the water. Grantaire flung his arm forward and caught Enjolras’ hand. The blonde immediately stiffened and tore his hand from Grantaire’s loose grip. He practically snarled at him. What a savage creature. “Calm down. I just thought that perhaps you shouldn’t throw yourself in there. You’ll get all dirty, and you might catch a disease or something. It’s cold and gross at this time of the year.”

“Well, I have to get it back!” Enjolras barked. He seemed to realized that he was being rude. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to be harsh, but I have no choice here and I don’t like to get wet. It makes me obnoxious.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll get your ball,” Grantaire declared. “Where exactly did you drop it?”

“Are you serious?” Enjolras squawked, “You’re warning me against cold and diseases, but you are willing to plunge yourself to get a small object, which I assume you think is ridiculous?”

“Wow. Assumption will make a fool out of—”

“You come to the Musain. To laugh at me and my friends. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you,” growled Enjolras.

“Well, you said you didn’t no me.”

“I don’t!”

“Okay, then,” Grantaire conceded patiently, “If you, the usually optimist one, won’t believe in the goodness of my heart, I’m going to propose you a trade.”

“A trade?”

“It means I’ll get your ball if you give me something in return.”

“I know what a trade is, Grantaire.”

Grantaire took the time to savour the sound of his name slipping from the beau’s mouth. The tone was biting, but he still considered it a privilege. Wordlessly, he squatted and took off his boots and his socks. He slowly rolled his baggy pants up to the knees so it would be easier to move. Enjolras did not stop him when he removed his coat, nor did he make a move when Grantaire jumped into the pond. The water was freezing, but Grantaire had endured worst. He couldn’t see that well, so he had to go back to the surface twice, but after a few moments, he saw something shiny at the bottom. It was red, round, and half hidden with vase and rocks. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to pull it out. Grantaire got out of the pond shivering, his breath short, but smiling. He crawled on the ground and got back to his feet clumsily, then he presented the red ball to Enjolras.

“I thought it would be a baseball or something,” Grantaire said conversationally. The red ball looked like an oversized marble. It looked like there was little clouds of a deeper red inside. It was quite beautiful. “I guess maybe you’re not a sport guy. It’s pretty.”

Enjolras nodded and made a move to get his ball back, but Grantaire was quicker and hid it behind his back. Enjolras frowned and Grantaire smirked, making a tut-tut sound.

“We made a deal, remember? You owe me something in exchange.”

“But you were willing to do it ‘out of the goodness of your heart’,” Enjolras said. He sounded indignant. “Besides, I did not agree to anything. You jumped in that pond of your own free will.”

“Oh, how cold, how mean! You did not stop me, didn’t you? You watched me gasp and now you watch me tremble from the cold. Must you be so indifferent? I got your precious ball back. Surely it is worth a little something?”

The blonde was obviously grinding his teeth.

“Right. This was a present from a friend,” Enjolras said. “I don’t want to pay for what’s already mine.”

“Does your friend know that you are so careless as to drop his nice little gift into a pond?” Grantaire teased, but he almost gave back the marble when Enjolras skin went crimson with shame and anger. “Don’t fret, monsieur Enjolras! I don’t want your money, and I don’t intend to keep your toy. All I ask of you is... a kiss. As a thank you.”

There was a paused during which they stared at each other. Enjolras went even redder, if that was possible. He was looking at Grantaire as though he had committed a gross infamy. It was almost offensive, all the venom in those pretty grey eyes. Grantaire knew that he was not much to look at, ugly even. He was overweight, hadn’t brushed his hair in days and smelled of cigarettes. His skin was oily, his eyes were droopy, his teeth were yellowish. On top of it, he was completely wet. Perhaps it _was_ a crime for someone like him to ask a kiss of someone as grand as Enjolras. Still, such rejection hurt.

“Is my face so grotesque that you can’t even bear the thought of kissing me? Even on the cheek?” he said, trying not to sound too bitter. He even smiled to show that he wasn’t angry. Enjolras frowned.

“What? No! That is absolutely not the point. You are basically harassing me, thinking that I owe you some form of physical affection because you did me a favour! A favour I didn’t ask you for, I might add! This is... this is...”

“Shh! Shh! Okay, you don’t have to say anything more!” Grantaire said, embarrassed. He thought he was being sneakily romantic, but he had failed, making a fool of himself in the process. He blushed as he took Enjolras’ hand and put the red ball in his palm. “I’m sorry. I merrily jumped to your aid because it was an occasion to talk to you, but my teasing upset you and I apologize. I’m not forcing you to do anything. I won’t even bother you anymore.”

That last line might have been a lie. Grantaire knew, looking at his blonde beauty, that he wouldn’t be able to resist getting near Enjolras again. Perhaps he was sincere in that moment, but he was not known to be coherent in his everyday life. Enjolras though, seemed appease by his apology. He carefully opened his coat and put the ball in an inside pocket.

“I did not carelessly drop the ball,” Enjolras said. “It was in my outside pocket, and apparently, there was a hole in it. When it fell, I tried to get it back and I accidentally kicked it.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for getting it back.”

“You are welcome.”

“I’m still not kissing you. Although maybe I should.”

“Ah? Why is that?”

“So you could turn into a charming being instead,” Enjolras said, smiling a little. Grantaire laughed.

“Oh, so your reticence to kiss me _had_ to do with my grotesque face!”

“Your face isn’t grotesque! Your manners are! It has nothing to do with your physical appearance,” Enjolras protested. He comically put his hands on his hips.

“And yours aren't? Come on, I know that you were serious about your principles, and not owing me, which is true, but you can admit that I’m cree—”

“Grantaire, you are definitely creepy,” Enjolras declared. “You appear out of nowhere, flirt and tease, jump in a pond for me, and ask me to kiss you. That’s quite the first impression, you make.”

“Ah-ah-ah! Not the first! You remembered me from the café!”

“True. But anyway, you’re not ugly,” Enjolras insisted, “And don’t you dare say the contrary in my presence. That’s such a strange concept to me. You are interesting looking. You have nice blue eyes, a large mouth and a funny nose. You have that crooked smile thing going for you too. So, no worry. I’m not that superficial.”

Grantaire smiled. Suddenly, Enjolras sprung forward and embraced him, tapping him awkwardly on the back. Grantaire laughed in his ear, and he was not the only one shivering anymore. When Enjolras let go of him, he hurriedly put his clothes back on.

“So, now, who’s the one forcing attention on the other? Hypocritical much?” Grantaire asked amiably.

“But you wanted a kiss!” Enjolras exclaimed, perplexed.

“A kiss and a hug are two different things. You surprise me, Enjolras!”

“I’m-I’m sorry!”

“Haha! Don’t be. You warmed my heart.”

Enjolras smiled sheepishly. “You’ll catch a cold,” he noted.

“Oh, that was worth it,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Do you want to pass by my place? To dry yourself, I mean?”

“Depends,” Grantaire answered. The question made him a little shy, a little insecure. “Are you feeling obliged to me?”

“Not at all,” Enjolras said solemnly.

“Are you pitying me?”

“Can’t you believe in the goodness of my heart?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire paused, then laughed. “That I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by 'The Princess and the Frog'. I think its themes were gratitude, keeping one's promise and not judging someone based on his appearance.


	2. The Blonde who Never Knocked (Courfeyrac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras might be abusing his friends' hospitality sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Contains Combeferre/Courfeyrac  
> -Domesticity  
> -Perhaps out of character adorableness?

Courfeyrac and Combeferre could always tell when their friend Enjolras needed to be comforted. He wouldn’t tell them, but he would show up unannounced, crash on their couch and refuse to talk to either of them. After a while, they decided to make a double of their apartment key so they would stop finding Enjolras sitting in front of their door, looking absolutely miserable. Most of the time, it happened during the winter, because the season had a negative impact on the blonde’s moods, but it also happened each time Enjolras overworked himself. He would get horrible migraines, which would impact his already sleep-deprived nights. In these instance, he hated to find himself alone.

This situation was highly amusing to Courfeyrac, who loved to come home and to noticed that his apartment had changed in the slightest ways. For example, he would look into the fridge and see that the milk was missing. A little look into the pantry would tell him that someone had rummaged through it and gotten out the gruel. The only people he knew who liked the cat-vomit-like food were Enjolras and Combeferre. In fact, the latter always sighed when Enjolras rudely finished his stash. Courfeyrac would then go to the livingroom, where the television was still on, and he would find Enjolras sleeping in his and Combeferre’s bedroom, all wrapped into the blankets and snoring. Additionally, during the winter, there would be thin napkins scattered everywhere on the floor around the bed. Enjolras was usually grumpy when he woke up, which Courfeyrac found adorable.

Combeferre seemed to be a little less thrilled by Enjolras’ habit. When he came home and realized that Enjolras was there, he always nervously looked around the place to see if anything’s been touched or disrupted. He got annoyed at the turned on television and groaned when he saw the unmade bed and the discarded empty box of kleenex.

“I’m going to kill him and you’ll have to visit me in jail,” he told Courfeyrac one day. The latter laughed at his dismayed face.

“Oh, you would miss him too much! Besides, he could be worst. Could be living tones of dishes behind, or walk with his dirty boots all over the carpet. All he does is eat, hang out on the couch and then sleep.”

“Still, he could call before coming here whenever he wants,” Combeferre protested.

“He does. It’s not his fault that we’re not here to take his call, or that your phone is turned off during classes. Come on Combeferre, he’s our best friend.”

“There are boundaries to be respected even in the closest of friendships, you know? Anyway. I’m not waking him up. _You_ encourage him to come, _you_ endure his bad temper.”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” Courfeyrac complained, but he was smiling. He slowly walked to their room where he found his friend lying in bed. Somehow, the bedcovers had been thrown in the corner of the room. So were Enjolras’ clothes. He was wearing Courfeyrac’s favourite purple silk pajamas. It looked ridiculous on the blonde who was much thinner than Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac did not know whether he wanted to push the blonde out of the bed or tickle him to death. He opted for the alternative decision of jumping on his friend, waking him up with the impact. Enjolras let out an ‘oof’ and glared sleepily at Courfeyrac.

“You have no room to be grumpy!” Courfeyrac mockingly scold. “You invite yourself here, you eat Combeferre’s happy food and you steal my exquisite pajamas —that I bought in Venice, mind you— and then you have the guts to growl at me? When you sleep in my bed? Villain little raccoon! Pest! Brat!”

Enjolras tried to maintain a straight face, but he laughed when Courfeyrac straddled his waist to swat at him. Then, a glint of guilt passed in his eyes.

“Am I really that annoying?” he asked sheepishly.

“Nah,” Courfeyrac immediately said, “Only, perhaps we should go at yours more often. So Combeferre can eat _your_ disgusting shit. He’s starting to get antsy. Aren’t you ‘Ferre?” he yelled that last part. He chuckled when he could hear his lover groan from afar. Enjolras bit his lips.

“But I was hungry,” he whined.

“We all go hungry from time to time. Doesn’t mean you have to feed yourself cat vomit.”

“You haven’t even tasted gruel, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras scoffed. “It’s delicious. And nutritive.”

“It’s pre-chewed and gross. Anyway, what do you say? We should definitely have a double of your key. Then, we’ll be even.”

“Right.”

“We’ll eat your food and make love on your bed!”

“No, we won’t,” Combeferre said from the doorstep. Courfeyrac made grabby hands at him so he would join them. Combeferre complied and sat on the bed next to them. “Because we’re not rude guests.” He punctuated this by kissing Courfeyrac’s temple.

Enjolras hummed. “I get it. I’ll try to be a little more grateful, and a little less...”

“Nosy?”

“I’m not nosy. I haven’t touched anything here, safe for your food!”

“That’s nosy enough for me,” Combeferre argued. He pushed his glassed up his nose with his middle finger. “I’ll have you know that my pantry is a sacred place and each time you come, I find it disorganised and messy.”

Enjolras closed his eyes and hid his face behind his hands. He was obviously trying not to laugh in Combeferre’s face, since his friend looked so sour. To make a diversion, Courfeyrac started to tickle Enjolras who immediately gasped and squirmed. Combeferre snorted and joined in the tickle-fest. Enjolras had to beg his two friends to stop, and they only did when they saw tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. Enjolras laughed and tried to catch his breath at the same time. He was red in the face and his hair was all tangled around his face. A cute mannish goldilocks he was.

“But sincerely,” he said, “You should have told me you had enough, ‘Ferre. I can understand that you need your space. I can manage to stay by myself, or I can go at someone else’s place too. I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother!” Courfeyrac quipped, “More like a charming stray cat we feed.”

“I don’t have enough of you,” Combeferre continued. “I just... I guess it’s a bit anal, but I dislike when someone’s home before me.”

“Hey, what about me?” Courfeyrac protested.

“You don’t count. You are Combeferre’s other half,” Enjolras reassured him. “No, I get it.”

“I’m sorry. It feels like I’m kicking you out, or something,” Combeferre admitted, averting his eyes.

“You are only being frank, and that’s what I want from you. I’m not sad. I’m not disappointed. All is fine.”

They stared at each other lovingly and it just became awkward. Courfeyrac had to intervene.

“Aw. Look at us, communicating like the great friends we are,” he said in a falsely sentimental tone. He got a pillow in the face for his trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This story was inspired by Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Its theme was originally 'privacy'.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Hyela on Tumblr: come and say hi!


End file.
